Heat
by Ko-Datenshi
Summary: Something is happening to Prowl and Ratchet is warning mechs to steer clear, but... Do they want to?
1. Chapter 1

**Heat**

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, if I did the show would be unsuitable for children

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The smell hit him hard. Sweet, musky, and enticing, igniting his circuits and sensors with an unexpected wave of heat. Inhaling deeply to catch more of that alluring fragrance he glanced around the med-bay, searching for the source. Growling lowly when he failed to spot the culprit Ratchet set down the almost forgotten cube of energon in his hand and stalked further into the medical center, determined to find out what was responsible for the waves of arousal pouring over his frame.

A nearly inaudible whimper had him spinning on his heel and heading towards the corner farthest from the door, his excitement growing with every step. He wasn't sure what he expected to see, but it wasn't the Autobot's 2IC huddled into a quivering ball while hiding behind a spare medical berth. The sight of the normally composed tactician looking like a frightened sparkling snapped Ratchet out of his haze, medical programming coming alive.

"Prowl?"

The Datsun's head snapped up at the mention of his designation, optics wide and nearly fearful. For a moment Ratchet was honestly afraid for the smaller mech, the medical scans he took the moment he saw Prowl all came up clean but something wasn't adding up. Prowl wasn't injured in any way, there had been no recent decepticon attacks, and Ratchet didn't think anything on the Ark could scare him. So why was he acting as if the Unmaker himself had appeared in his office and had attempted the chicken dance?

"Prowl? Talk to me what's wrong?"

Ratchet was almost ready to contact Prime when the tactician simply moaned, staggering to his feet. That's when he noticed it: thick purple lubricant trailing down the inside of white thighs, smearing with every step Prowl took. Ratchet almost jerked as he recognized the symptoms, the arousing smell, the jerky movements, the sheer amount of lubricant. Oh dear Primus, Prowl was...

Ratchet didn't get the chance to finish his thoughts, due to the fact that Prowl had launched himself at the CMO and captured the taller mech's lips in a fierce kiss.

Ratchet groaned, trailing his hands down the black and white form to grip slender hips. His mind was screaming at him to pull back, but his body refused to cooperate. In fact it had decided that Prowl was not nearly close enough and pulled the tactician into a bear hug, easily lifting the enforcer off the floor as if he weighed nothing. All thought left him when Prowl moaned and wrapped his legs around the medibot's waist, staining the white plating with lubricant.

Snarling in arousal he broke the kiss to nip and lick at the red chevron adorning the smaller's helm, humming in approval at the whimper he was rewarded with. Taking three steps forward he managed to pin Prowl against the wall, leaving his hands free to explore every crease and crevice on the black and white armor. As a medic he knew just about every inch of Prowl's frame intimately, and therefore knew just where to touch to drive the 2IC mad.

Prowl moaned, long and low, reaching both hands up to grab at a pipe above him that was used to hang medical supplies on. Tightening his grip on the pipe Prowl used it to hold his weight as he lowered one leg to rest right under Ratchet's red aft, and moved the other to rest on a nearby berth. The position left him wide open, his wet aching valve in full view of Ratchet's hungry gaze. Smirking slightly he undulated his frame just to add an extra touch.

Growling lowly Ratchet shoved two fingers into Prowl's valve, satisfied with the resulting yelp. He could barely take his optics off the erotic show Prowl was unknowingly giving him, the tactician writhing and bucking against the sudden penetration. Prowl held nothing back, he gasped, moaned, and mewed shamelessly, his helm falling back to expose the delicate arch of his throat. Unable to resist such a temptation Ratchet leaned forward to capture the tender cables with his denta, enticing another whimper from Prowl.

Pressing his fingers deeper into the hot valve Ratchet gently rubbed the inner walls chuckling when Prowl squirmed, accidentally scrapping his paint against Ratchet's. Humming against the cables and wires that made up Prowl's neck Ratchet removed his fingers, almost laughing outright at the outraged cry of the smaller. Raising his head to look into Prowl's optics Ratchet failed to stifle his laughter, the 2IC seemed downright furious at the loss of stimulation in his valve.

Baring his denta in a soundless snarl Prowl bucked against the medic, pulling Ratchet closer with his legs. His valve spasmed, the ache that had been haunting him all day was starting to become truly painful. He had originally come to the med-bay to see if Ratchet could help him, but once he caught sight of the medic he could think of nothing else but having the CMO inside him. The medic's fingers had felt wonderful (no doubt his spike would feel even better) bringing him so much pleasure, and then he had taken that wonderful feeling away. Prowl had been aching all day for an overload and Ratchet was denying him? The tactician wouldn't stand for it. Prowl wanted his valve filled, and he wanted it filled now!

Leaning close Prowl rested his head on Ratchet's shoulder, lips barely brushing against the medibot's audio. His normally smooth voice came out as a husky growl. "I'm going to give you three seconds to open your panel and fuck me, or I'm going to find every scrap of blackmail Red Alert has on you and post it on Teletraan's main drive!"

Fighting back a shudder Ratchet didn't know what effected him more, that Prowl had actually used a vulgar human curse or the fact that Prowl was far enough gone to threaten him if he didn't get his spike out pronto. Either reason was good enough for him and he opened his interface panel with a click, his cable sliding out hard and erect. Grabbing the back of Prowl's helm he yanked the Datsun's head back and captured those full white lips, joyfully swallowing Prowl's pleasured scream as he shoved his spike into that sinfully tight valve.

Groaning low in his throat Ratchet grabbed Prowl's slender hips, fingers delving between the black armor to tease the wires beneath. Prowl brought one hand down off the pipe to stroke at Ratchet's chevron, lightly kneading the sensitive metal. Ratchet allowed this treatment for a few scant seconds before grabbing Prowl's hand and pushing it back towards the pipe. The Datsun groaned in disappointment but obeyed the unspoken command and gripped the pipe once again.

Resting a hand against the wall beside Prowl's head Ratchet slowly pulled his length out till only the tip remained inside the tactician. Straightening his back for better leverage Ratchet brought his hand back to rest on Prowl's hips once again, gripping the armor hard. A wicked grin was the only warning Prowl got before Ratchet roughly thrust back inside of him.

Prowl twisted and gasped, simultaneously trying to get away from and get more of that wonderful cord that was stretching him so deliciously. Ratchet's pace was fast and nearly savage, each thrust was banging him against the wall. Thankfully his door wings were fanned out and weren't receiving any damage, they were scraping against the wall every now and then but the prick of pain only seemed to intensify the pleasure.

If anyone were to ask him what the most beautiful sight in the cosmos was Ratchet would have to say it was Prowl in throes of ecstasy. The black and white was simply stunning during an interface. His small graceful frame was writhing and arching in a manner that made Ratchet's internal fans rev higher and higher. Prowl's legs were spread almost obscenely wide, showing off his slender thighs and that oh-so-delightful leaking valve of his. But what really caught Ratchet's attention was his face.

The normally emotionless and stoic expression was replaced with a pleasured one. The white faceplates were flushed, deep indigo optics were half shuttered and clouded over in lust. Prowl's full lips were parted as he panted hard, ventilators working overtime in a failed attempt to cool his body down. Ratchet watched as Prowl's glossa snaked out to swipe across his lips before his top denta snagged his lower lip component in an effort to muffle his cries. Oh yes, he was beautiful like this.

Prowl whined bucking his hips to encourage Ratchet to go faster, he could feel the beginning tingle of overload. Obligingly Ratchet angled Prowl's black hips for deeper penetration before literally pounding into his second. Prowl wailed writhing and arching against the medic, the pleasure was rapidly building into what was certain to be a mind numbing overload. With a sudden sharp thrust upwards Ratchet hit a sensor deep within the Datsun's valve, which proved to be Prowl's undoing.

With a quivering sob Prowl reached his peak, as wave after wave of pleasure assaulting him. He twisted and moaned, bucking his hips against Ratchet's. The sensation of of Prowl's valve spasming erratically around his spike was enough to send Ratchet over the edge, and with a roar he overloaded reflexively jerking his hips as he released his transfluid into Prowl's reproductive chamber.

Releasing the pipe that he had been holding in a death grip Prowl let his arms drop down to rest on Ratchet's shoulders, too tired to even embrace the medic. Smiling in contentment Prowl pressed a sleepy kiss to Ratchet's cheek before falling into recharge. Ratchet however was wide awake and staring at the motionless tactician in growing comprehension and horror.

Quickly setting Prowl on a berth Ratchet hastily cleaned up both of their interface units. Closing both panels he rushed out of the med-bay sending a data-burst to lock the door, keeping Prowl in and everyone else out. Wearily leaning against the wall Ratchet wondered how the Pit he was going to tell Prime about this, he could barely believe it himself.

Prowl: Prime's head tactician, the resident enforcer, the Autobot's seemingly cold and emotionless Second In Command was in heat...

* * *

This is my very first submission here so please be gentle ^^

This isn't gonna be a Ratchet/Prowl story (although I love the pairing) its gonna be Prowl/several others. Prowl's not a whore in the story, he just can't help himself.

I'm not sure how I got the idea of Prowl experiencing a heat cycle but I couldn't help but write it, hope you enjoyed =)


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, but I can dream

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"I'm sorry Ratchet, what?"

Ratchet sighed, they didn't have time for this. Prowl wasn't going to stay in recharge for long, and Ratchet seriously doubted that the med-bay would hold him for long. Nothing short of the apocalypse could stop a mech in heat, they were hell bent on getting 'faced and Primus help anything that stood in their way.

"Prime. I'm going to say this very slowly... Prowl. Is. In. Heat." Ratchet enounciated each word carefully, unwilling to repeat himself **once again**.

"I...see..." For someone who had recently learned that his 2IC was temporary, to use the human term, sex addict Prime was taking the remarkably well. "And you can't fix it?"

Or not.

Ratchet reached up to rub at his optics tiredly. "Prime, it's a natural condition. I can't fix something that's normal." It was actually very normal. Femme's were few and far between so mech's had developed the ability to conceive offspring during as long as it was during their 'heat' period. Any other time the mech's reproductive chamber would be inactive. The 'heat' itself was the result of the reproductive chamber being activated and basic programming kept the body in a lustful state as to ensure that there would be a conception. Ratchet thanked Primus that he had sealed up the small casings on each side of the reproductive chambers in every bot on base, without those two casings giving off energy conception couldn't take place. He had done it as a simple precaution but was currently extremely glad he did, the thought of Prowl (one of his closest friends) carrying their sparkling was quite disturbing.

"Hmmm so what brought this on? No mech has entered heat in nearly a millenia."

"I can't say for sure, but I'm guessing it was when Elita-One visited last week."

Prime blinked, hands clasped in the classic steeple position. "Elita-One caused my Second in Command to go into heat?"

Ratchet gave him a dry look, "Her spark energy did. As you know Prowl gave her a tour of the base and of Portland so he spent quite a bit of time with her. My guess is that during that time the closeness of a femme's spark energy had alerted his basic programming that she was a member of our society that capable of producing offspring, and also that she was unable to give every mech on the Ark a sparkling. So in an effort to split the responsibility of conception and to keep her from tiring herself out Prowl's reproductive chamber was activated."

Prime stared at Ratchet a good while, Prowl had unconsciously started his reproductive program so Elita wouldn't have to do all the work? Without warning Optimus buried his head in his hands and laughed, he laughed long and hard until his intakes began to hurt. Lounging back in his chair Prime's optics glowed brighter as eyed his medic, a sure sign that he was grinning beneath his mask. "I never would have guessed that Prowl's loyalty ran so deep."

Ratchet snorted, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

Chuckling Prime shook his head, "I'm guessing you want me to warn the crew as to why Prowl is acting in such a manner?"

"Yes, and tell them to keep away from Prowl as well."

"Why?"

"Well if they get in close proximity of him they won't be able to control themselves, and that could cause quite a bit of awkwardness once this mess is over. Plus I'm sure Prowl will be embarrassed enough as it is, the fewer partners he has the better."

Optimus rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "True. I doubt he'd ever look anyone in the optic again if he laid down for half of the base. Very well Ratchet, consider it done. Just don't expect that Prowl will remain chaste the rest of this week, if he wants a partner he will find one."

"I'm well aware of that."

* * *

Meanwhile outside the Ark Jazz was taking what Grapple had called his 'afternoon stroll', which was just him wondering around aimlessly while listening to music. While Jazz loved being social and getting in the mix of things, he needed some amount of private time. Thus the reason he was walking down a rarely used trail at the base of the volcano, no one ever came out here. Leaving Jazz free to listen to his music and clear his head, without worrying that he would see any of his fellow Autobot's.

So it came as no small surprise to him at the sight of Prowl leaning back against a boulder not too far away from where he was standing. What honestly floored him though was that Prowl had yet to notice the saboteur a mere 20 yd.s away. The tactician either had to be ignoring him, in deep meditation, or recharging, Jazz couldn't think of any other reason why Prowl wasn't aware of him. Curious Jazz sneaked forward as quietly as he could, if Prowl was simply ignoring him Jazz wanted to see how close the Datsun would let him get.

The Porche frowned when he got within touching range and Prowl still didn't aknowledge him, not even a twitch from his door wings. If there was one thing Jazz hated most it was being ignored, giving the police bot a once over he looked for an easy way to get Prowl's attention. Normally he would just flick a doorwing or poke Prowl's chevron but for some reason his gaze kept being drawn to the tactition's cod peice, optics focusing on the tiny down pointing arrow. How was it that he never noticed it before?

Lips drawing back in a devious grin Jazz reached down to gently cup Prowl's crotch, fingers ghosting over the hidden interface panel in a barely there touch. He expected Prowl to instantly lash out spouting insults, however he was pleasantly surprised when the simply Datsun sighed and shifted his legs further apart. Rubbing the panel a little harder encouraged a soft moan from Prowl's vocalizer.

His curiosity growing Jazz silently dropped to his knees, using one hand to gently part Prowl's legs further while keeping the other busy with tracing over the smooth interface cover. He rested a hand on the tactician's thigh unable to resist groping it a little (after all when would he ever get this opportunity again?) and used a thumb to carefully push back the panel hiding Prowl's interface unit (Jazz still couldn't believe Prowl hadn't moved).

The sheer amount of lubricant was surprising in of itself but what really shocked Jazz was that he was instantly hit with the most delicious smell. As if a switch had been turned Jazz's whole aura changed from one of curiosity to one of raw lust. Growling he leaned forward to lap at the source of the scent, Prowl's valve.

Flicking his glossa against the rim Jazz idly wondered just why he was doing this, he had never looked at Prowl in any other way than a friend. Sure he was handsome and was a great mech, but they were just close friends. Jazz had never even entertained the thought of kissing the enforcer, but at the moment all he wanted to do was 'face Prowl till he screamed. Pushing past the flexible plates Jazz ran his glossa over the valve's inner walls, savoring Prowl's unique taste. Sweet and hot.

His sensitive audio's picked up Prowl's faint whimper and the soft whine of a mech's systems as they came out of recharge. Growling he gave Prowl's valve one final lick and shot to his feet, extending his spike and burying it deep within the 2IC's valve before he had completely stood up. Prowl had come online instantly when Jazz shoved his length into him and before a startled cry could pass his lips a black hand snapped forward to clamp over his mouth.

Wrapping his other arm around Prowl's waist and arms Jazz anchored the Datsun in place, keeping his hold firm so Prowl wouldn't wiggle free. Shifting his weight Jazz placed his feet apart at just the right angle that he could thrust into Prowl easily without falling over due to the lack of leverage. Grinning down into Prowl's wide optics Jazz thrust forward roughly, his grin widening when Prowl squealed behind his hand.

Prowl's valve was dripping wet and so wonderfully tight and hot around his spike, Jazz groaned regretting that he had never taken the tactician sooner. He didn't give Prowl time to adjust or even time to think before he started a fast bruising pace, he knew he should've started off slowly but he simply couldn't help himself. Plus if the muffled moans and whimpers of pleasure were anything to go by Prowl was enjoying himself immensely.

The Datsun was arching and twisting in Jazz's grip, shaking his head from side to side in a failed effort to dislodge the hand the was preventing him from crying out for everyone to hear. They both knew it was a useless endeavor, Jazz had a good firm hold on Prowl and he wasn't letting go anytime soon. It was just that fighting the saboteur was hightening Prowl's own arousal, and Jazz was enjoying the visual that Prowl presented.

Sobbing behind Jazz's black hand Prowl tried to force down his overload, he didn't want things to end so soon. He didn't have a choice with Jazz pounding into him like that though, and despite his best efforts Prowl's overload hit him hard. Whimpering he jerked and bucked against Jazz, ecstasy igniting every circuit in his body on fire.

With one final shudder he collapsed against the rocks staring hazily Jazz, who had gone completely still once Prowl's overload hit, and wondered vaguely if the Porche was going to release him (the saboteur still had his hand clamped over Prowl's mouth and his arm wrapped around the Datsun's frame). His musing was short lived when Jazz grinned at him wickedly and began thrusting once again, apparently the Porche hadn't overloaded and was still revved up and ready to go.

Prowl mewed weakly as pleasure once again shot through his systems, barely registering when Jazz leaned close to whisper into his audio. "I hope ya ready for a series of overloads Prowlie, 'cause I'm keepin ya here for _hours_."

Prowl moaned.

* * *

Ratchet knew it was naive to expect that Prowl would stay in the med-bay until he came back, but he never expected that the 2IC would actually _break his door's lock_ just to get out.

"Well slag..."

* * *

Well here it is the second chapter! Thank you everyone who reviewed, it means alot to me =)

As for Jazz... well to me he seems like the type to take his partner by surprise then go all night long (he is a Saboteur after all, a job that requires alot of patience, stamina, and stealth)

Oh! And thanks to Dragon Queen88 for helping me with how the whole TF's in heat thing works


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

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Bluestreak's back hit the wall with a resounding _clang_. His grunt of discomfort muffled by the sensuously soft mouth sealed over his. Groaning he reached around strong shoulders to caresse black and white doorwings. When he had come back from patrol he hadn't expected to be tackled from behind by Prowl the moment he keyed open the door to his quarters. Not that he would complain, he doubted anyone would if they had their arms full with a gorgeous, whimpering, _writhing_, black and white Datsun.

Every brush Prowl made against his armor sent tingles through Bluestreak's senor relay, it didn't help that Prowl was practically grinding against him. His superior was frantically moving his hips against Bluestreak's, whining in need. The gunner could feel the lubricant leaking from Prowl's valve (the tactician must've opened it earlier) as it ran down white thighs to smear against his plating. The sight, the feel, the very smell of Prowl was seeping into his circuits and trapping his CPU in a pleasant fog of lust.

Gently he pushed Prowl away, smiling at his mentor's groan of disapproval. Making his way to his berth Bluestreak laid down, carefully arranging his doorwings, and motioned Prowl over. Prowl practically teleported to the berth, straddling Bluestreak's hips his mouth automatically sought out his fellow Datsun's. Sighing happily into the kiss Bluestreak opened his mouth for the elder, huffing in amusement when Prowl wasted no time in slipping his glossa in.

Drowning in Prowl's exotic taste it took a few moments for Bluestreak to realize that his fellow Praxian was pawing at his interface cover almost desperately. Breaking the kiss he smiled at Prowl's flushed faceplates, he could get used to seeing Prowl like this, and grabbed the black hips that were still grinding against him. Giving Prowl a reassuring kiss on the cheek he began to pull the other's hips up his body, leaving a trail of lubricant.

Bluestreak kept guiding Prowl's hips until they rested right above his faceplate, with Prowl's knees on either side of his helm. Licking his lips the gunner admired the sight of Prowl's dripping valve for a moment before snaking his glossa out to give the 2IC's entrance a long, hard lick. Gripping Prowl's hips harder when the elder jerked, Bluestreak began to alternate between sucking, licking, and occasionally nipping at Prowl's valve.

Bluestreak had to fight a grin as Prowl latched a hand to his chevron and slammed the other against the berth. The tactician was moaning and keening in frustrated arousal, Bluestreak's hands were keeping his hips still and the blasted sniper was giving his valve the most torturous treatment. He was lavishing attention on the rim but he never once slipped his glossa inside, and all of Prowl's inner sensors were aching to be stimulated.

Smirking Bluestreak pulled Prowl away (sweet Primus a growling Prowl was sexy), pushing the tactician back to his original position over Bluestreak's hips. Bluestreak snickered slightly at the furious glare Prowl was giving him and clicked open his interface panel, swiftly extending his spike straight up into Prowl. Bluestreak immediately took a photo capture of Prowl when the enforcer's head shot back, optics bright and his mouth open in a silent scream. The elder's doors were quivering in pleasure, his body arched forward as his hands gripped Bluestreak's armor tightly.

Bluestreak groaned, his hands kneading Prowl's hip plating gently, reveling in Prowl's tight heat before slowly rolling his hips upwards. Prowl whimpered at the movement but took the hint, bracing his hands against Bluestreak's stomach armor he began to gently rock his hips. Gasping at the sensation he grabbed one of Bluestreak's hands in an unspoken plea for help, the younger's ministrations earlier had left his valve incredibly sensitive and every movement threatened to swamp his processor in overwhelming ecstasy.

Grasping Prowl's hip's once again the grey and red Datsun slowly rocked the black hips forward and backward in a soothing wave pattern, drinking in every moan and keen that spilled from those luscious white lips. Prowl shuddered and trembled uncontrollably, leaning forward to rest on Bluestreak's frame. His hands came up to rest against Bluestreak's chest in an almost hug, lightly kneading the sensitive headlights.

Bluestreak smiled, moving his hands to where one rested against Prowl's thigh to pull his leg higher while the other gripped Prowl's aft. Bracing his feet against the berth for leverage Bluestreak began a slow rhythm, pushing into Prowl as deep as he could go before drawing back out. He didn't speed up his pace, choosing instead to keep Prowl whining and panting as long as he could. Glancing down at the white faceplates he was pleased to see Prowl's nearly midnight blue optics were half shuddered in ecstasy, his cheek seams flushed nearly red, and his lips were parted and begging to be kissed.

Indulging himself Bluestreak leaned up to capture those soft lips, happily swallowing Prowl's moan. Nearly chuckling as a devious thought entered his mind Bluestreak slid his hand away from Prowl's thigh and towards his valve. Tightening his grip on Prowl's aft he unceremoniously thrust two fingers into the already full valve.

Prowl's optic's flared white as he tossed back his helm with a scream of pure unadulterated pleasure. Bluestreak grunted as the already tight valve spasmed around him as Prowl overloaded hard. He was nearly able to work through it till the realization that Prowl (his mentor, and Autobot Second in Command) had just climaxed around his spike, and with a low groan Bluestreak followed Prowl into overload.

As the last aftershocks went through he system Bluestreak managed to glance down at Prowl, a smile tugging at his lips at the sight of the satiated tactician. Leaning up to press one last tender kiss against Prowl's lips before falling into recharge, barely catching sight of Prowl's own small smile.

* * *

A few hours later Bluestreak woke up to find Prowl gone. Glancing down at the dried lubricant on his chassis he bit his lip in contemplation. How the hell did Prowl convince him into an interface without even speaking to him!?

"Huh... I guess Ratchet wasn't kidding..."

Shrugging he laid back down, uncaring of the mess all over his frame. Staring at the ceiling for a few minutes Bluestreak suddenly smirked.

"Prowl's not going to like this once he comes to his senses..."

* * *

Bluestreak's turn!!! I think he'd be the 'slow and steady' type XDDD

To everyone who doesn't know I have no idea how exactly this story will turn out, I'm pretty much going by the seat of my pants on this. Honestly I had no idea how to continue after Jazz and I was afraid that I wouldn't get this done until tomorrow. However this scene came to my head as I was eating Lucky Charms at 2 in the morning and was immediately followed by the thought

'Prowl - He's magically delicious!!!'


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

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The security monitors cast an eerie glow around the dark room, bathing it's sole occupant with various colors. Red Alert never minded spending most of his day alone, he enjoyed the solitude. Watching his teammates go about their day joking and laughing filled him with a sense of accomplishment. It was because of his top flight security that they were safe to relax, he protected them.

They may call him paranoid every now and then, but they still showed their gratitude for his vigilance in little ways. Leaving energon for him outside his door, casting a grateful smile at the camras, and some even purposely gave him something to grin over. Like the twins dancing the 'Macarena', Jazz shaking his aft at the cameras obnoxiously, and...

Wait a klick...

Movement caught his optic on camera 43, zooming in Red was able to make out something stirring in the shadows of the rarely used hall way. Pressing a few buttons Red Alert tilted the camera, zooming in just a bit more. Red chevron, black and white armor, high set doorwings...Prowl. What was Prowl doing down there? Ratchet had Prime inform everyone of Prowl's 'condition', so Red was curious as to why he was alone instead of trying to find another berth partner. A mech in heat was rarely by themselves, so why was Prowl...

Oh...

OH!

Snapping his jaw shut Red Alert stared dumbly at the screen, surely Prowl wasn't far enough gone to do **that**! Shaking his head in denial Red Alert tried to turn his back on the scene. There was no way he was going to watch Prowl do that! It was improper, embarrassing, and...and...

Red Alert turned back to the scene, unable to resist. He couldn't look away this time, Prowl was just too beautiful. Red Alert licked his lip components, staring greedily at Prowl's exposed valve. The Datsun was writhing and panting harshly, arching back against the wall as he drove three fingers into his valve repeatedly. His other hand was busy kneading his chassis, pinching at sensitive headlights.

Turning up the volume Red Alert could just barely make out the quiet moans and breathy gasps of his 2IC, tasting energon as he bit down on his lower lip a bit too hard. A low growl of arousal escaped his throat as Prowl cried out in pleasure (no doubt hitting a sensor node), thrusting his hips against his fingers. Red Alert heard his internal fans kick on as Prowl violated himself in the most intimate way, and enjoy every every microsecond of it.

Another weak cry from the Datsun had Red Alert out of his chair and heading towards the door. He didn't bother locking the door, figuring that he wouldn't be gone long. As erotic as Prowl's little display was he was still breaking several codes of conduct, in heat or not the enforcer should at least have the control to keep such behavior behind closed doors.

Striding confidently towards Prowl's little hiding spot Red Alert worked out the lecture that he would have to give his superior, it wasn't lost on him of how strange that sounded. Honestly, HIM giving PROWL a lecture? The concept was almost laughable, however it had to be done. Self interfacing in public was not something an officer should let slide.

Spotting his 2IC Red Alert sped up his steps, he wanted to hurry and get this over with. The cameras wouldn't watch themselves. Opening his mouth to reprimand his superior Red Alert felt the words die in his throat as his olfactory sensor picked up the tantalizing smell of a mech in heat. The rant he had been ready to give came out as a single strangled noise, a noise that caught Prowl's attention.

Red Alert's jaw snapped shut when Prowl languidly lifted his head to stare heatedly at the SD. Prowl gave Red a small smile before removing his fingers from his valve and grabbing the backs of his knees with both hands, pulling his legs up and apart. Prowl's exposed valve leaked lubricant freely, the fluid glistening in the light. Feeling his mouth go dry Red Alert glanced up at Prowl's face, and at the small nod quickly made his way over to him.

Extending his spike Red Alert swiftly buried himself into that hot valve, groaning at the tightness and Prowl's sharp moan. Not wasting any time Red thrust into Prowl almost savagely, careful not to touch Prowl anymore than he had to. His already sensitive sensor net was on high alert and unless he wanted to overload prematurely he couldn't let Prowl touch him. Turning his head away from Prowl, watching him wasn't helping the SD's control, Red Alert concentrated on pounding the 2IC into the wall.

Listening to the steady clanks against the wall and Prowl's pleasured vocalizations Red Alert almost smirked, he never figured a 'face with Prowl would involve so much noise. Shifting his weight Red Alert changed the angle of his thrusts, going deeper into Prowl's valve. Smirking again when Prowl let out a particularly loud keen Red Alert focused on the one spot that inspired the noise, repeatedly hitting a rarely touched node set deep in the Datsun's valve.

Red Alert nearly glitched in arousal when Prowl started begging, never in his life had he expected such filthy words from such a reserved bot. Prowl was practically pleading for an overload, and Red Alert was sure mechs in the rec room could hear the repeated phrases of 'please', 'faster', 'more', and 'Primus'. The ever eloquent Prowl was gasping and sobbing in pleasure, barely coherent enough to string two words together. It gave Red Alert a power rush, knowing that he was the one to reduce Prowl to that level of arousal.

Feeling the hot, wet valve ripple around his spike Red Alert finally looked at Prowl, wanting to see his face as he overloaded. Prowl's optics were unfocused and nearly crossed in pleasure, his mouth open as he panted heavily. He had drawn his knees up to where they were almost touching his shoulders, giving Red Alert all the room he needed. Prowl's chassis was heaving as his intakes worked overtime, his frame trembling faintly.

Leaning forward to flick his glossa over Prowl's lips Red Alert put more force into his pounding, enjoying the way Prowl's head fell back as he screamed when his overload hit him hard. Feeling Prowl's already tight valve constrict around him, Red Alert succumbed to his own quieter overload. Both remained in the same position for a few moments, enjoying the pleasant afterglow of their activities.

Without saying a word Red Alert retracted his spike (smiling at Prowl's soft mew) and stood up after closing his panel. Giving a small nod to Prowl he turned on his heel and walked back the way he came. Prowl watched him leave, not at all offended by the younger's behavior. Not bothering to close his panel Prowl stretched out to bask in the pleasant tingles that were still running through his chassis.

* * *

Prime couldn't stop staring at the moniter. He had come to the security room to ask Red Alert about adding hidden sensors in various places in the Ark, and instead he had witnessed his 2IC and his SD interfacing in the hallway. Swiftly walking out of the room Prime made his way back to his office, hoping he could somehow drown out the images with paperwork. Due to the whole heat issue he wasn't going to punish them, but still he wished he hadn't seen that.

He just couldn't get Prowl's face out of his processor.

* * *

Sorry this took so long, I couldn't choose between Hound and Red Alert ^^


	5. Chapter 5

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky. Weirdness.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

* * *

It was no secret that Hound loved nature, if it was it was the worst kept secret on the Ark. The sheer beauty and complexity of Earth's environment fascinated the scout, each and every organism was different but they all somehow found a way to coexist. It was amazing how one species could affect the entire ecosystem.

Hound spent most of his downtime outside, observing his surroundings, the rest was spent watching the Discovery Channel and Animal Planet. To say that Hound was a near expert on Earth was an understatement. He had a knack for knowing which species belonged where, and when a creature was away from its natural habitat.

Which was why he instantly spotted Prowl, the tactician's natural habitat was his office not outside staring at the forest.

Swiftly approaching the motionless statue known as Prowl, Hound contemplated what he was doing. He knew very well what would happen once he got to close, and he knew Prowl would probably die of mortification once he came back to his senses. But...

To the Pit with it.

Hound was almost within touching distance when Prowl whipped around to stare at him, normally ice blue optics a deep indigo (they haven't lightened since the beginning of his heat cycle). Gazing curiously at the enforcer Hound froze, waiting for Prowl to make the first move. He didn't have to wait long.

Barely a klick had past before Prowl gave him a minuscule smile, clicking open his interface panel. Hound spent a moment to savor the sweet smell that all mechs are programmed to respond to, then reached out to pull Prowl to him. Only the tactician danced away before Hound could touch him.

Giving Prowl a confused look he reached for the Datsun again, only for Prowl to jump to the side with a devious smirk. This wasn't normal heat behavior, Prowl had his panel open in the presence of another mech but wasn't spreading his legs yet? Dropping his hands to his sides Hound gave the 2IC another confused look, what did he want?

Still smirking Prowl sauntered forward to swiftly circle Hound a few times, alternating between rubbing his doorwing or his aft against the scout. Finishing his circle Prowl dropped to all fours in front of Hound, presenting his valve to the green Autobot. Figuring that Prowl was done playing Hound knelt down behind him, ready to shove his spike inside the enforcer.

But before Hound could lay his hands on the Datsun, Prowl had shot up again. Intending to follow the black and white Hound stood as well, hopelessly confused when Prowl repeated his ritual of circling the Jeep then dropping to his hands and knees. Hound tried to be quicker about catching the enforcer but once again the moment he knelt down Prowl was up again. Frowning Hound stood back up only to have Prowl repeat the ritual again.

And again.

And again.

By the sixth repeated circling Hound figured out what Prowl was doing, and had to stop himself from laughing. Once Prowl was himself again Hound would ask him when he had ever watched the Animal Planet. The scout had to give it to him though, mimicking a lion's mating ritual during a interface with a nature lover was both thoughtful and interesting.

Giving Prowl a feral grin when the tactician stopped in front of him, Hound waited until the 2IC was on all fours once again before pouncing on him. Wrapping both arms around the slender waist Hound anchored Prowl in place, kneeling between the white legs so Prowl couldn't close them. Growling when the Datsun began struggling Hound leaned up to clamp his denta on the back of Prowl's neck, resting on the flared doorwings and letting the enforcer hold their weight up.

Hound rubbed Prowl's midsection gently when he dropped his head with a small mew, the scout was pleased with the easy submission but didn't release his hold on the enforcer's neck. Prowl was playing the part of a female and would scramble away the first chance he got, but Hound wasn't about to give him that chance. Pressing his hips firmly against Prowl's Hound extended his spike straight into Prowl's valve.

Groaning at the tight heat surrounding his interfacing equipement Hound gently thrust forward, earning a delighted purr from Prowl. Hound kept his movements quick but gentle, he didn't want to tire himself out so soon. Prowl didn't seem to mind if the whimpers, moans, and mews passing his lips were anything to go by.

Shuddering his optics Hound focused his senses on the trembling frame beneath him. He could still detect the lingering musk of heat, along with the naturally sweet smell of lubricant. If he focused on his lower regions he could feel Prowl's lubricant trailing down his thighs to the ground below. Growling again Hound put more force behind his thrusts, his hips hitting Prowl's with a low clanking sound.

Prowl groaned beneath him, spreading his legs a little wider. Digging his denta further into the tender cables of Prowl's neck Hound reached up with one hand to cover Prowl's mouth, he didn't want the tactician to scare away the local fauna by being loud. Moving his other hand down between Prowl's legs he rubbed the rim of the Datsun's valve, every now and then pressing his fingers in along side his spike.

Moaning raggedly behind the scouts hand Prowl arched to the best of his ability. With his other partners he was able to recipritate the touches or at least look at them, but in this posistion he was unable to see what Hound was doing or touch him. The only thing Prowl could do was hold them both up and moan while Hound groped him, and the lack of control was driving Prowl insane with lust. It felt good to be at someone's mercy during an interface.

Hound's optics narrowed as a rather devious thought entered his processor, Prowl wouldn't be expecting something like that.

Releasing his hold on Prowl's neck he gave the cables a tender lick before pulling his hand away from the Datsun's mouth. Pausing his movements the Jeep removed his hand and spike from Prowl's valve, reaching into his subspace. Grinning Hound pulled out a shammy cloth, rolling it into a make-shift cord he stuffed the middle into Prowl's mouth and tied the ends together behind the white helm. Still smiling Hound pressed against Prowl's shoulders, pushing him to the ground.

Reaching back into his subspace he pulled out the standard stasis cuffs that was assigned to every Autobot. Hound grabbed Prowl's wrists, pulling them behind his back and making use of the restraints. Leaning back Hound admired his work, taking a data capture so he would never forget how Prowl looked. The Datsun was cuffed and gagged, aft up in the air, with his valve exposed and leaking. Definitely worth remembering.

Grinning down into Prowl's glazed optics Hound lifted a hand and brought it down hard on Prowl's aft. Snickering at the resulting yelp Hound brought his hand down again, enjoying the muffled curses and cries of surprise. Rubbing lovingly at the abused metal of Prowl's aft Hound waited until the tactiction had relaxed before bringing his hand down again, laughing outright when Prowl actually squealed.

Hound couldn't resist smacking that tempting aft a few more times, he'd never again get the chance to spank his 2IC (good thing he made a video file of it). Looking down at Prowl's embarrassed/furious faceplates Hound winked before shoving three thick fingers into Prowl's dripping valve. Grinning at the muffled scream Hound worked his fingers into Prowl roughly, bringing the Datsun almost instantly to the edge of overload.

Not pausing in his minstrations Hound reached over Prowl's back to bury his fingers into the sensitive joints of the officer's doorwings, stroking them heavily. Immediately Prowl's optics brightened and he wailed behind his gag, thrashing and twitching as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted him. The sheer force was almost enough to offline him.

Removing his fingers Hound sat back to observe Prowl's quivering form, watching in interest as the Datsun slowly came down from his overload and into a peaceful afterglow. Glancing down at his aroused, proudly erect spike Hound smiled. He could wait till Prowl was ready to go again, they had all day.

* * *

I was gonna save the Hound/Prowl chapter but I couldn't resist XD

Sorry for the weirdness but ever since I thought of this pairing I kept seeing Prowl acting almost wild towards Hound and the first thing that popped in my head was a lion mating ritual (I think Prowl made a good choice, after all lions mate 50 times a day).


	6. Chapter 6

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

* * *

Ironhide stomped towards the shooting range, more than ready to blow off a little steam. He was just about ready to strangle the twins, just because Prowl wasn't around to punish them that didn't mean they could act like sparklings. Honestly, this was a military base not a frat house! You weren't supposed to put stimulants in the energon just because you thought everyone needed 'a little extra energy'.

Snarling in distemper Ironhide yanked his gun out of subspace, firing at the target with an accuracy that only years of experience could give you. He didn't even have to concentrate on the target, instinct taking over as he let his mind wonder. The last few days on the Ark had slowly but surely chipped away at his patience, Jazz had been almost unbearably smug, Prime had become rather jumpy since yesterday, Red Alert was almost always smiling (Ironhide prided himself on being a nigh unflappable mech but that was downright creepy), Ratchet kept grumbling over something, and Prowl was to busy seducing mechs to attend to his duties. In short, the chain of command had lost their minds.

Grumbling slightly he reloaded with another clip of ammo, barely taking time to notice that not one of his shots strayed from the bulls-eye. Kneeling down Ironhide fiddled with the gun a moment, carefully watching for any small malfunction (no matter how insignificant any trouble with a gun could be the difference between life and death). Satisfied that everything was sliding in normally Ironhide lifted his head to look at the target only to come face to face with somebot's codpeice.

Blinking in a almost bored fashion Ironhide absently studied the mech's black pelvic armor, optics lingering on the red arrow. He already knew who it was without looking up, only one mech could walk that silently. Sighing in resignation Ironhide subspaced his gun and reached up to cup Prowl's narrow hips, rubbing his thumbs over the metal. Ironhide knew very well what was expected of him, in being as old as he was he had plenty of experience with dealing with mechs in heat.

Leaning forward he slid his glossa over the red arrow on Prowl's crotch, turning off his olfactory sensor before he could become enraptured by Prowl's smell. Ironhide had no problem with facing the younger mech, but he wasn't going to treat this as anything other than a job. Prowl was a good comrade and that's all Ironhide would ever see him as, a comrad.

That's not to say the younger mech wasn't gorgeous Ironhide had no problem admitting that, he had even given Prowl quite a few appreciative glances (who wouldn't?). But he had no desire to seduce the tactician, he was far too old for the enforcer and his spark belonged to Chromia. With Prowl he almost had a 'look but don't touch' policy.

Gently pushing at Prowl's hips he pinned the younger against the wall, delving his fingers into armor gaps to stroke at sensitive wiring. Ignoring the gasps and moans coming from Prowl's vocalizer, Ironhide slid a hand down to tap at the Datsun's interface panel almost impatiently. The second the panel opened Ironhide slipped two fingers into Prowl's valve, experience telling him that mechs in heat were always well lubricated.

The old warrior almost snorted when he caught sight of the various small scratches and dents that covered Prowl's inner thighs and hips. Really those young mechs acted as if they had never seen a valve before, just because a mech was in heat that didn't mean he was just something to stick your spike into. Rubbing circles along the valve's inner walls Ironhide smirked at Prowl's mew, the Datsun clearly unexpecting the tender treatment.

Ironhide took his time with fingering the 2IC, taking great pride in the whimpers and pleas spilling from the enforcer's lips (just because this was a job it didn't mean Ironhide couldn't enjoy it). Slipping his fingers away from the dripping valve Ironhide stood to his full height, his hands encircling Prowl's waist and lifting him with ease. Lining Prowl up he extended his spike and slowly penetrated the Datsun's valve, smirking when Prowl's hands clawed at his back plating desperately.

Keeping his thrusts slow and deep Ironhide reached down to capture Prowl's thighs in a strong grip, spreading the Datsun wide. Prowl whined and gasped, pleas and curses falling from his vocalizer while Ironhide listened with interest. He had no idea that the ever prim and proper Prowl knew language suited for the slums of Kaon. Guess it was true that you learn something new everyday.

Prowl groaned in frustration shuddering his optics, the thick spike inside him felt amazing but Ironhide refused to go faster. The enforcer prefered interfacing to be hard and fast, but the old bot wasn't pounding into him the way that he wanted. It left Prowl with a pleasurable ache in his valve that he wanted to both savor and satisfy. Wiggling for more stimulation Prowl gasped, Ironhide's length now repeatedly hitting the primary sensor in his valve.

Ironhide chuckled at the smaller's writhing, he knew very well what he was doing to the Datsun. He never once sped up his thrusts, he would give Prowl the overload the younger needed but it would be by his terms. He wanted Prowl to know that just because he was in heat it didn't mean that everything would go his way, and if that meant slowly teasing him to overload so be it.

Prowl's optics snapped open, the beginning tingle of overload racing through his circuits. Bucking his hips frantically Prowl whimpered, begging for just a bit more stimulation. He could practically taste the overload eluding him, he just needed a... little... more... **THERE**!!!

Prowl sobbed as sharp ecstasy shot through his systems like liquid fire.

Staring down at the keening mech that was writhing against him and the wall Ironhide smirked, an aura of smugness surrounding him. It was always fun to show these young bots that he could still interface as good (if not better) than they could. They may have a bit more endurance, but he had experience.

Still smirking Ironhide pulled out, his spike still hard and soaked with Prowl's lubricants. Watching in amusement as Prowl slid down the wall to his knees, Ironhide waited until the police bot looked up at him before motioning towards his spike. He never came in a mech in heat (he didn't want to accidentally sire any sparklings), instead preferring to climax in their mouth.

Prowl's optics brightened a tiny bit as he glanced once at Ironhide face then back to the spike that was being offered to him. Nibbling at his lower lip component Prowl studied the length before crawling forward, keeping his movements slow and sensual for Ironhide's viewing pleasure. Reaching out a hand he guided the red elder to sit on the ground, crawling between Ironhide's legs he licked his lips once and gave a tiny grin.

Leaning down Prowl flicked his glossa over the slit at the tip of Ironhide's spike before resting on his elbows and taking the head of the thick length into his mouth, keeping his aft raised in the air proudly. Humming Prowl took more into his mouth, tasting his own lubricant and savoring Ironhide's low groan. Relaxing his throat tubing Prowl swallowed the old warrior's spike until his nasal ridge bumped against Ironhide's panel.

Prowl purred when Ironhide grabbed his aft, keeping a firm grip on the metal, and bucked his hips. Lavishing attention on Ironhide's spike with his glossa he was rewarded with a deep growl, the sound sending a jolt through his circuits. Reaching up he pinched a bundle of wires in Ironhide's hip joint playfully (which Ironhide reciprocated by smacking his aft) Prowl started bobbing his head, sucking hard whenever he drew back only to swallow the length again.

It wasn't long before Ironhide grabbed his head, thrusting into his mouth repeatedly. A long low moan was the only warning Prowl got before transfluid burst into his mouth, thick and hot. He was forced to swallow it when Ironhide refused to move his hands, only letting him up once every drop was gone.

Ironhide stared at Prowl's flushed faceplates hazily, reaching forward to cup the mech's jaw. Running his thumb over the soft white lips Ironhide smirked.

"That's one hellova talented mouth ya got thar kid, ya should use it more."

Prowl smiled at him, giving a small wink before standing and sauntering away. Ironhide watched him go, watching his swaying aft with interest. Once the 2IC was out of sight Ironhide chuckled, leaning back to rest against the wall. Licking his lips he reviewed their interface session, the memories of that tight valve and hot mouth causing his spike to twitch in new found arousal.

Maybe the younger bots were on to something when they stared at Prowl with lust and longing.

* * *

Couldn't resist, I have no doubt that due to Ironhide's age he had more than enough experience when heat cycles and how to deal with them.

Special thanks to Lucretzia, she's been helping me since the second chapter and has been a big influence on my writing


	7. Chapter 7

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

* * *

The washracks were already hot and filled with steam before Mirage even stepped foot inside of the room. Rolling his optics Mirage made his way further inside the room, mentally preparing himself for spending half and hour with either Tracks or Sunstreaker (no one else was vain enough to be in the washracks in the middle of the day). Briefly he thought about turning on his heel and walking right back out the door to wait for either of the sports cars to leave, but the mud on his dermal plating itched something terrible.

Schooling his features into painful neutrality Mirage entered the main chamber, immediately scanning for the two prima donna's. Frowning when he didn't see a trace of blue or yellow Mirage reached up to wipe the fog on his optics away. Giving the room another scan he finally caught sight of a figure standing in front of one of the various mirrors mechs used to make sure they were completely clean. Narrowing his optics he studied the mech's back, focusing on his elegant doorwings.

Mirage had to admit, they were rather pleasing to the optic and they gave Prowl a regal air.

Flicking his optics to Prowl's reflection he was surprised and vastly amused to see the tactician's hands running almost awkwardly over his own body. If Mirage could guess what the enforcer was doing he'd say that Prowl was critiquing his frame the same way a human female would. He was touching himself, but more in curiosity than arousal. It was almost...cute.

Prowl was looking at himself with an almost innocent sense of wonder, it was as if he was viewing himself in a completely different light. Which he most likely was, given how many mechs had touched him with nothing but desire and awe during the past week. And perhaps Mirage would be the next to lay his hands on the sexy second in command.

Smirking Mirage retracted his interface panel and moved within the mirror's range, alerting Prowl of his presence and of his arousal. The delicious smell Prowl was emitting was clogging his circuits and already had his spike hard and throbbing. Resting his hands on his hips Mirage straightened his back into a haughtily challenging stance. Looking down his nose at Prowl he let an almost playful smirk cross his lips, curious to see what the enforcer would do.

To Prowl's credit he didn't even twitch a doorwing at Mirage's sudden reflection, instead taking in the spy's arrogant stance with a smirk of his own. With more sensuality than any mech should possess Prowl twisted around and sauntered over to Mirage, his hips swaying almost rhythmically as he drew closer. Prowl came to a stop right beside Mirage, their arms barely touching, and tilted his head to the side. His own optics offering a challenge.

Pulling his lips into a frown Mirage stared hard into Prowl's optics, before glancing down to give the Datsun another once over. From this angle he had a perfect view of Prowl's rather slim waist and the slope of his bumper. Tilting his head to the side a bit Mirage got a better visual of the top of Prowl's slender legs and the enticing curve of his aft. Flicking his optics back to Prowl's face he took in the tactician's handsome, and almost noble, features.

His optics were darker than normal (which was expected) and slightly larger than the average mech's, giving him the appearance of being younger than he actually was. His cheek seams were high set but very soft, making his face smoother instead of angled. His lips were almost cruel in their sensual outline, soft and pouty, just begging to be kissed. His stark white face was framed by a equally white rounded helmet, the bright red chevron adding a tasteful touch of color.

Nodding ever so slightly Mirage grabbed Prowl's shoulder and pushed him into the wall, the tactician was indeed worthy of a noble chasing him rather than him chasing a noble. Giving Prowl one final smirk Mirage activated his electro disruptor, allowing Prowl to see himself in the mirror across the room. The Ligier almost grinned at the small flash of surprise in those deep blue optics, before lurching forward and catching Prowl's neck cables in his denta.

Ignoring Prowl's whimper Mirage spread the enforcer's legs and entered him without preamble, immediately starting off quick and hard. The other's may have took their time but Mirage had a shift later and he would have liked to have time for a shower after this. Lifting his head Mirage ran his glossa over Prowl's chevron, nipping at the thin metal. Smirking at the moans and pants coming from Prowl's vocalizer Mirage grabbed the Datsun's chin and turned his head towards the mirror. Once hearing Prowl's gasp of arousal and surprise Mirage let go of the tactician's face, instead grabbing his hips to keep him still as he focused on the tight, wet heat surrounding his spike.

Prowl had honestly never witnessed anything like this. He could see himself in the mirror, his face flushed and his body shuddering from unseen pleasures. He could see the way his limbs trembled and his hips moved with sharp thrust from the spy, and he could see his valve. He could see the way it clenched and rippled around Mirage's invisable length, and the way it leaked lubricant over his thighs. In the back of his mind he realized this was what he looked like to the mechs 'facing him.

Clutching at Mirage's shoulders Prowl tilted his head back and moaned, his optics never leaving the mirror. Bucking his hips against the spy Prowl whimpered, Mirage's spike wasn't as thick as the other mech's but it was longer and had no problem stimulating the deeper part of his valve. Wiggling slightly Prowl sighed in pleasure as Mirage went just a tiny bit deeper, only to frown when he felt the spy stiffen and hot transfluid rush into his valve.

Scowling when the Ligier removed himself Prowl opened his mouth to protest only to yelp as Mirage shoved three fingers into his valve. Sobbing in ecstasy Prowl bucked against the fingers that were brutally violating him, arching his back Prowl instinctively tried to twist away from the agonizing pleasure only to be held firmly against the wall by Mirage. Struggling against the taller mech Prowl tried to make the spy give him time to grow accustomed to the new feeling, only to be denied.

Mirage used his superior stature to keep the Datsun pinned as he continued to work that tight valve roughly, he still wanted his shower and if doing this made Prowl overload faster then so be it. Reaching down he grabbed one of Prowl's legs and pulled it up to allow for deeper penetration.

Prowl wailed renewing his struggles as Mirage harshly stimulated the deep set sensors in his valve. The pleasure was intense enough to be nearly painful, and Prowl could feel overload rapidly building inside of him. Catching movement in the corner of his vision Prowl turned his head only to lock optics with a stunned Optimus Prime.

The shock of seeing his leader was enough to push him into overload. The sheer intensity of his climax made Prowl throw his head back and scream, the sound echoing in the spacious room. Unable to take much more Prowl faded offline, slumping against the finally visible spy.

Setting the limp tactician against the wall Mirage moved over to a shower head, smirking at the sound of Prime's hasty retreat. Turning on the water the Ligier contemplated the look on his leader's face as he witnessed Prowl's overload. Chuckling to himself Mirage reached for the cleanser.

Things were about to get very interesting.

* * *

Prowl came to a few hours later, still laying in the washracks. Frowning he reached down to rub tenderly at his valve, who knew Mirage could be so rough? Grumbling he brought his hands back up to rest under his head as he reviewed his 'face with the spy. All in all it wasn't unpleasant, just surprising. Especially the sudden appearance from Prime.

Prime...

The mere thought of his leader made his valve pulse eagerly. Prowl kept seeing those broad, strong shoulders, powerful white thighs, and authoritative stature. Smiling Prowl licked his lips at the thought of the Semi inside of him. Oh yes, he definitely wouldn't mind being taken by Prime...

He wouldn't mind at all...

* * *

Hehehe Mirage wants his wash slaggit!

The tension between Prime and Prowl thickens! lol


	8. Chapter 8

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

* * *

As a master tactician Prowl could predict many things, he was able to plan his way through a battle with little effort. His battle computer could observe 800 moving objects, compute their probable paths of movement, and determine the proper counter move in .05 seconds. So why couldn't he properly fight back when he was shoved front first into the wall?

Oh yeah...

The demanding kiss he was engaged in was robbing him of his ability to think.

Whimpering Prowl wiggled as impatient hips pressed against his, the mech grinding his pelvic armor against Prowl's aft. Large hands were eagerly roaming his body, tweaking wires and stroking his doorwings. Gasping as his lips were released Prowl let his head fall forward onto the wall, his ventilators straining to circulate air through his systems. Those hands latched onto his waist, spinning him around to face his molester.

Sunstreaker.

Of all the mechs to seek him out Prowl would've never guessed that Sunstreaker was one of them. The golden youth didn't hate him but he didn't like him either, their relationship was nothing but professional. Of course all that flew out the window the moment Sunstreaker touched him.

Prowl's thoughts were interrupted by another searing kiss from the toughliner. The mech pulling him closer and holding him in delightfully strong arms. Moaning Prowl leaned into the Lamborghini, more than willing to spread his legs for the much larger mech.

Sunstreaker broke the kiss staring down at the officer thoughtfully, curiosity blending in with the lust in his optics. Tenderly the gold mech traced Prowl's lips with his finger, his gaze drinking in Prowl's features as if he had never seen the Datsun before. Of course with Sunstreaker that was a distinct possibility since the Lambo was known for giving others once-overs instead of in-depth looks (Sideswipe was the only exception). Sunstreaker only really looked at the rare mechs who managed to catch his eye with flashy colors.

Prowl was once again wrenched away from his musings when Sunstreaker bent down in front of him. He didn't register the pressure against his middle until his world tilted almost violently, shaking his head to stabilize his equilibrium chips Prowl found himself face to face with Sunstreaker's back. Staring at the shiny metal it took Prowl a second longer than he would have liked to realized that Sunstreaker had, for whatever reason, slung the Datsun over his shoulder and was happily making his way down the hall.

Resisting the urge to kick the toughline's chassis out of spite, Prowl passed the time by staring at Sunstreaker's aft. Prowl tilted his head, absently admiring the golden metal. Smirking as a twinge of mischievousness made itself known in his processor Prowl simply couldn't resist this time, reaching a hand down he gave Sunstreaker's aft a firm squeeze and a light smack. The sudden tenseness of the Lambo nearly made him chuckle.

His amusement was quickly forgotten as a large hand fell heavily on his own aft, a bolt of arousal flashing through him at the nearly pleasant pain. Wiggling against the warrior Prowl moaned his impatience, extremely grateful when the hallway's harsh lights were replaced with the soft glow of a mech's personal quarters. Prowl wiggled again as a feeling of excitement began to bubble within his chassis, he could barely contain himself at the thought of the beautiful frontliner 'facing him into oblivion.

Prowl yelped as he was very nearly thrown on the berth, not expecting the sudden movement or impact. Looking up Prowl nearly yelped again at finding Sunstreaker's face inches from his own. Swallowing in anticipation Prowl watched as Sunstreaker silently slid on the berth, his dark predatory grace shining through. Laying on his back passively Prowl stared up at the dangerous warrior looming over him, nearly smiling when the Lambo leaned down to steal a deep kiss.

* * *

Prowl was going to kill him...no, scratch that. Prowl was going to kill him and dance around his mutilated remains. Three hours. _Three fragging hours! _Three hours since Sunstreaker left claiming to have a shift, three hours of acute arousal, and three hours of being trussed up in a rather humiliating position.

Sunstreaker had laid him on his stomach cuffing his hands beneath his knees (forcing his aft high in the air), shoved a vibrator into his valve, and had gagged him with a ball that had two straps on either side of it that buckled right behind his helm. And it was like this, unable to move or speak, that Sunstreaker left him. The toughliner cheerfully patted his aft before leaving for patrol, sliding a vibrator inside him to keep him wet and waiting.

Cursing Sunstreaker to the seventh level of the Pit (again), Prowl rubbed his face against the berth trying in vain to dislodge the gag. It was bad enough he was bound in such a way, but the damnable object forcing his mouth wide and muffling his vocalizations was too much. It was too damn humiliating and too damn arousing for him to put up with.

Spewing out an impressive string of muffled curses, Prowl fumed. Why couldn't he have least turned the blasted vibrator on!?

Hearing the tell-tell door hiss Prowl twisted around to give Sunstreaker an acidic glare, only to stop dead. Feeling his energon run cold Prowl clamped down on the urge to shake his head in denial, this couldn't be happening! Groaning he turned his face away, praying for a CPU crash.

He could almost feel the other's optics roaming over his form, oh damn Sunstreaker for sharing quarters with his twin. And damn Sideswipe for daring to enter his own quarters.

Jumping at the feel of warm hands encompassing his hips Prowl whipped his head around to stare at the red twin incredulously. When all he got in return was a cheeky grin Prowl sighed, spreading his legs in invitation. His need to mate overriding any misconceptions he had about the red toughline, plus the way the hellion was kneading the plating on his hips was rather pleasant.

"Sides, what have I told you about touching what isn't yours?" The sudden voice nearly caused him to jump again. Lowering his doorwings he caught sight of Sunstreaker standing in the doorway, staring at his twin in affectionate exasperation.

"Sunny, what have I told you about sharing?" Sideswipe mimicked his brother's tone, the effect was lost due to the bright grin painted on the red warrior's face.

Sunstreaker tilted his helm to the side, "You want to share him?"

Annoyance began to invade Prowl's CPU, he wasn't to fond of the idea of being passed around like a toy. Growling his displeasure Prowl glared at the twins, manipulating one of his doorwings to bend back and smack Sideswipe in the head. Annoyance was quickly replaced with amusement as the red toughline yelped and grabbed his helm so quickly that he lost his balance, toppling to the floor.

Shaking his head Sunstreaker sighed, only Sideswipe. Staring down at his pouting twin Sunstreaker clamped down on the urge to ask Primus if he was somehow adopted (he happily ignored the fact that they had a twin's bond). Instead settling to reach over and flick on the vibrator inside Prowl, ignoring the Datsun's sudden cry with difficulty. Fighting his instincts was something Sunstreaker had to do on an almost daily basis (being a warrior he pretty much had to fight the urge to kill his comrades whenever they pissed him off), but Prowl's heat was easily chipping away at his control. Offering his brother a hand up, he tried (and failed) not to glance over at the bound mech in his berth.

Originally he had left Prowl tied and helpless for his own amusement, but he hadn't counted on the image of his superior in that vulnerable position haunting him throughout his patrol. By the second hour he was practically humming with arousal, his interface unit hot and aching. Thank Primus that Mirage didn't seem inclined to comment on his fidgeting.

Sending Sideswipe a pulse through their bond Sunstreaker carefully slid on the berth behind Prowl, his optics darkening at the sound of the tactician's whines and moans. Grasping Prowl's dark hips he studied the officer's valve, noting with interest on how it clenched erratically around the vibrating toy and dripped lubricant onto his thighs. Noticing Sideswipe move in the corner of his vision he turned his head to his twin, a smirk pulling at his lip components when the red Lambo unhooked Prowl's gag.

The room was filled with the 2IC's loud pants and moans before Sideswipe gripped the white chin almost roughly, squeezing he forced the Datsun's mouth open before extending his spike into it. Groaning Sideswipe rocked his hips into Prowl's wonderfully hot mouth, effectively silencing the enforcer. Sunstreaker watched in interest while lightly tracing Prowl's valve with a finger.

At his brother's slight nod Sunstreaker extended his own spike, swiftly yanking the vibrator out and shoving his length into that delightfully tight valve. Hissing through his denta Sunstreaker smirked as he watched his twin buck into Prowl's mouth hard when the tactician wailed around his spike. Pulling back the gold toughline watched Prowl's face intently, relishing the way his features contorted with pleasure.

Tightening his hold on the enforcer's hips Sunstreaker shuttered his optics and slammed forward into the tactician, his brother's loud moan drowning out Prowl's pleasured cry. Keeping his optics shuttered Sunstreaker focused on pounding the officer until he forgot his own name, making sure to angle his hips differently with every thrust. Forcing Prowl to continue those lovely cries, and ensuring his red brother's pleasure.

The room echoed with their pleasured vocalizations, from Sunstreaker's hisses and growls, to Sideswipe's loud grunts and moans, to Prowl's whimpering mews and soft whines.

Snarling Sunstreaker removed a hand from Prowl's hip to roughly smack his black aft, chuckling at the muffled squeal. Throwing a wink to his brother he did it again and again, he loved the way the tactician's valve spasmed around him with every hit. Judging by Sideswipe's keening moans and sharp jerks he enjoyed it too.

Placing a few more smacks on the enforcer's aft Sunstreaker leaned over the smaller mech to tweak a few wires right above his brother's codpeice harshly, instantly sending Sideswipe into overload. The red hellion gasped, latching his hands onto Prowl's helm and thrust roughly into the black and white's mouth. Forcing his spike almost completely down Prowl's throat Sideswipe groaned, hot transfluid coating Prowl's throat tubing.

Shuddering Sideswipe withdrew his spike, snapping the gag back over Prowl's mouth. Grinning at his twin Sunstreaker placed his hands on the berth, framing Prowl's head, and thrust savagely into that lovely tightness known as Prowl's valve. Ignoring the pleasured sobs and whimpers from the mech beneath him Sunstreaker quickly brought himself to overload, jerking his hips sharply against the officer.

Withdrawling himself Sunstreaker allowed a small laugh at the tactician's weak cry of frustration, before shoving the vibrator back inside the unsatisfied valve. Setting the vibrations to a teasing hum Sunstreaker leaned down to nip at Prowl's audio, savoring the muffled whimpers.

"We're going to take a break, don't go anywhere."

Smirking at the desperate and outraged optics of the 2IC, Sunstreaker turned on his heel to make his way over to the couch where his brother was already sorting through their collections of video games. Picking up a controller Sunstreaker bit back a laugh at the furious wail from the berth.

* * *

I'm **SO** sorry this took so long! During the past couple days I haven't found much time to work on this, and when I did have time I couldn't think of anything to write! *sighs*

Well many of you asked for it, so here it is: Prowl/Twins

I'm not sure why but I have a feeling that the twins (especially Sunny) would be into bondage, and would mercilessly tease their lover all night long.


	9. Chapter 9

Warnings: Mature sexual content. Slash. Sticky.

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

* * *

If there was anything about his job that Optimus hated it was the paperwork. Stacks and stacks of datapads littered his desk, most haven't even been picked up since they were dropped in his office. And by the rate he was reading through them most would still be untouched a week from now, usually Prowl was the one who handled most of the paperwork.

Prowl...

Growling Prime threw the datapad in his hand across the room, the screen cracking as it hit the wall. Ever since spying his second overloading under Red Alert Optimus had been unable to get the tactician out of his processor, the incident in the washracks just making things worse.

Prime couldn't stop thinking about him in the throes of pleasure, the way his cold mask melted into sheer rapture. The way his elegant doorwings arched and twitched on his shoulders, how his slender legs parted in submissiveness. His valve leaking lubricant down his thighs, staining the white plating....

Optimus resisted the urge to bang his head against his desk.

This was ridiculous! The was the leader of the Autobots for Primus' sake! He should be focusing on how to win the war, not on how his 2IC looked during interfacing!

Sighing Prime laid his head in his hand, he wouldn't have been so distracted if he hadn't entered the security room or the washracks. He could have gone on his merry way, ignoring Prowl until he was back to normal. But noooooo, Primus just had to have a sense of humor. And a messed up sense of humor at that.

His door swished open, the visitor not bothering to to even announce his presence. Sighing again Prime lifted his head to reprimand one of his soldiers for their rudeness only to stop dead. Staring at his visitor with blatant shock and a small twinge of horror.

No...

Oh Slag No!

Prowl stood in front of the closed door, staring at him with such cold calculation that for a moment Optimus hoped he was back to normal. His hopes were dashed however when the Datsun sauntered to the nearest wall, his aft swaying enticingly as he walked. Pillowing his head in his arms as he leaned against the wall, Prowl spread his legs and clicked open his panel.

Optimus stared at his 2IC, never in his wildest dreams had he expected to see Prowl in his office like this. Propped against the wall with his valve open, his legs spread, and his aft perked out. Prime had to give it to him, when Prowl wanted 'faced he sure knew how to get the message across.

Huffing with impatience Prowl looked over his shoulder to scowl at Optimus, "What the Pit are you waiting for? Come here!"

Prime continued to stared at his second in disbelief, only standing when the officer growled irritably and wiggled his aft in impatience. His optics trained on the enforcer's leaking valve he slowly walked up behind Prowl, running one hand up and down the officer's spinal strut while the other wrapped around the Datsun's waist. Gently lifting the smaller's lower half of the floor before roughly slamming his already straining spike into Prowl's valve with a groan.

Keening loudly Prowl kicked his legs in a failed attempt for leverage, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the slick metal of the wall. Prime's spike felt glorious inside him, the thick length stretching him far wider than the other's managed. He could feel every ridge and curve of the large spike acutely.

Optimus smirked behind his mask, thrusting into Prowl's tight valve harder, changing his angle by lifting the Datsun a little bit higher. His other hand stroked and tugged on the slender doorwings, enjoying the officer's heated whimpers.

Prowl panted shaking and bucking within Prime's grasp, his hands sliding all over the wall "OH!...Prime.....ngh....I-I'm...g-gonna..fall...ohhhhh..."

Prime grunted stepping closer to the wall to pin the enforcer in place, thrusting his hips hard and fast. Hitting the sensor deep inside Prowl's valve with every thrust, forcing the Datsun to writhe and arch against his bigger lover. His monochromatic paintjob scraping against the Prime's.

Yanking the officer away from the wall Prime knelt to the ground holding Prowl close to him, before forcing the Datsun on his elbows and knees. Raising his black aft in the air. Using the new position to drive his spike deeper and harder into his second's tight valve, covering the black and white frame with his own and digging his fingers into Prowl's chassis.

Prowl let out a whimpering moan, his fingers clawing at the floor. Pleasure coursing through his circuits as his leader pounded him into oblivion, the Prime's spike slamming into his valve hard enough to make him see stars. Maybe he should have stayed with Prime during the entire week?

Especially if the Semi could bring him so close to overload in such little time...

Panting heavily Prowl reached back to grab at Prime's white thigh, needing to hold onto something as pleasure began to consume him. Wailing in rapture Prowl arched back, his doorwings trembling as overload hit him hard. His frame trembling and undulating underneath his commander, scraping his paint even more.

Groaning Prime thrust into the officer a few more times before succumbing to his own overload, Prowl's spasming valve milking his transfluid from his spike. Running his hands over Prowl's armor possessively Optimus sat back, pulling the mewing Datsun into his lap. Making sure to keep his spike inside that wonderfully tight valve.

Smiling slightly Prime gazed down at the lovely officer, gently stroking the side of Prowl's red chevron. The smile morphing into a devious grin before he quickly yanked Prowl to his feet and threw the officer over his shoulder. Ignoring the Datsun's surprised squeak and the fists pounding against his back, he made his way out of his office to head to his private quarters.

Tonight was going to be _fun_.

* * *

Prowl onlined slowly, his processor hazy and disoriented. Unshuttering his optics Prowl found himself staring at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room. Frowning in confusion he made to sit up only to realize two things that nearly caused him to panic: one he was pinned down by something extremely heavy, and two something large was in his valve. Cautiously he turned his head to stare at the offline faceplates (when had he removed his mask?) of his commander in horror.

Then it all came back to him.

The events of the past week raced through his processor, interfacing with mech after mech like some cheap whore. Oh dear Primus...

Red Alert, Ironhide, Jazz, Ratchet, Bluestreak, Mirage, Hound, The Twins, Prime....

Groaning in humiliation Prowl wished he had his hands free so he could cover his face. Honestly, going into heat!? Why did that of all things have to happen to him?

Prowl wasn't sure if he could look any of the mech's he interfaced with in the optic, well maybe the officers but the rest? Whimpering Prowl realized that his subordinates, the mechs he was supposed to command, had seen him spread his legs and moan like a whore. Banging his head against the berth the officer wished desperately that a black hole would materialize underneath him and swallow him up.

Unfortunately a black hole didn't appear beneath him, but the clank of his helm hitting the berth did wake Optimus. Turning to look at his leader Prowl opened his mouth to ask if he could be let up, only to squeak when demanding lips captured his own. The Datsun whimpered as a hot glossa invaded his mouth, the appendage stroking his own glossa in an attempt to get him to participate.

Wiggling again to get his hands free a rich moan escaped his vocalizer when Prime started moving his newly hard spike inside of him, the Semi apparently taking his movement as a plead for another interface. Whining softly Prowl arched into the stimulation, his valve clenching around his leader. Slowly returning the kiss Prowl cursed his libido, a week full of interfacing and he still wanted more.

Prime swallowed his soft moans and whimpers happily, keeping his large arms around the smaller officer to keep him still. His hips moving gently, pushing his spike deep into the Datsun's valve slowly. He loved the way Prowl's valve spasmed and clenched around his length, as if it was trying to keep him inside the enforcer.

Prowl cried out, breaking the kiss as Optimus rolling his hips forward to hit the sensor deep within the 2IC's valve. Turning his head to the side Prowl hissed between his denta, he couldn't believe he was allowing this. He wasn't in heat anymore, he could say no!

But, he didn't.

He wanted this too bad, he wanted Prime to take him in his valve. He wanted to, at least once, feel like he was desirable. Optimus wasn't being effected by the scent of heat, he was doing this on his own. Prime was most likely only acting on the lust he felt from waking up in Prowl's valve, but if he tried the officer could pretend that Optimus actually wanted him in this manner.

Keening Prowl tilted his head back, allowing Optimus access to his tender neck cables. The steady movement in his valve was slowly building a powerful charge inside him, all it would take was a bit more stimulation for him to find release. Mewing Prowl angled his hips up, desperate for that last little bit.

Which he was granted when Prime hit his sensor node dead on.

Moaning wantonly Prowl arched and thrashed in Prime's arms, waves of pleasure hitting him hard. Vaguely he was aware of the deep groan above him and the sudden heat filling his valve. All that mattered right now was the sharp ecstasy racing through his systems and the satisfying afterglow that came afterwards.

Prime panted heavily, intakes working overtime to cool down his systems. Reaching a had forward he traced Prowl's smooth lips as he studied his second's serene expression, his optics shuttered and face devoid of his usual tenseness. Slowly a warm feeling engulfed his spark, was this what Prowl looked like without the weight of the war on his shoulders? Prime wanted to see more, he wanted to see more of the hidden side of the tactician. He also wouldn't mind seeing Prowl writhing in ecstasy again.

Leaning down he pressed a chaste kiss against Prowl's lips, savoring the softness. "If only you were in heat all the time... you'd be more open..."

Slowly Prowl opened his optics, the pale blue glass staring at him confused and slightly irritated, "I'm not in heat."

Prime felt as if a bucket of coolant was poured on his circuits. "...What?"

"I'm not in heat. I haven't been since I woke up this morning."

".......Slag...."

* * *

To everyone reading this: I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!

I had major writer's block for this chapter, I had no idea how to start or end it.

Again very sorry ^^


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers

* * *

Ratchet was in a surprisingly good mood. Prowl was finally his old stoic self, and the medic couldn't be happier. With Prowl out of his heat that meant Ratchet could walk the halls without fear of being jumped again (not that it wasn't an enjoyable experience, but still).

Plus with all the interfacing Prowl's valve was overly sensitive (possibly a bit sore) and the Datsun literally had to waddle into the medbay. Ratchet hoped Red Alert's cameras were watching.

After a good ten minutes of laughing, Ratchet pointed the Datsun to a berth. After which Prowl had refused to acknowledge his exsistance, in fact if Ratchet didn't know better he'd say the officer was pouting.

Chuckling Ratchet turned his attention back on the scans, pleased when everything seemed normal. Well everything but that tiny blip. Focusing on the tiny abnormality Ratchet heightened the intensity of the scan, barely able to stop himself from cursing out loud.

No.

Oh sweet Primus let it be a malfunction...

Checking through Prowl's medical history quickly Ratchet realized his mistake. How could he have been so careless?!

Grabbing Prowl's hand he barreled his way out of the medbay, heading to the rec room. Ignoring the Datsun's rather loud protests he stomped his way into the room, giving every one a healthy dose of death glare.

One thing was for certain, his good mood was gone.

* * *

"Okay! How many of you slaggers fragged Prowl!?"

If it had been any other time Ratchet would have been on the floor laughing from all the dumbfounded (and embarrassed) looks he was getting. But it wasn't any other time, he _needed_to know who Prowl had slept with. Ignoring Prowl's glare he stared down the entire rec room, daring them to not answer his question.

Slowly Bluestreak raised his hand, followed by Mirage, Ironhide, Red Alert, Jazz, Hound, the twins (Ratchet shuddered in horror), and....Prime? Giving his leader a disbelieving look, the medic held back a snort as Optimus simply shrugged.

"Ummm why do you need to know?"

Ratchet barely glanced at Bluestreak. "I wanted to know who knocked Prowl up."

A loud crash behind him signaled that Prowl had fainted.

* * *

I apologize for two things 1.) How long this took. 2.) The shortness of the chapter.

I wanted to make this short and to the point so I could begin on other stories that have been floating around my head.

=3 This is the end of 'Heat' I hope you enjoyed, the sequel should be coming soon


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